The waiting in line. Incredibly tedious. I had things to do. Well, actually, today I don’t.
A sign was posted inside the glass-enclosed bulletin board. I silently chucked. Florida Statute Section 790.06 (12). Today that was the least of their worries.
They’d promised a three day delivery for my baby girl’s Barbie. I’d paid the extra cost for shipping. My baby was disappointed.
I called my ex-wife. It was a full-on punch in the gut when I had heard. There was no present.
My ex-wife already knew I was a failure. Now my little girl was wounded. How do you explain to a five-year-old that Santa had shipped her present USPS and he had made a mistake? This mishap could haunt her for years.
I’d been here before Christmas and they’d tracked the package. They’d even told me where it was stored. I had asked to retrieve it to deliver it myself. They had refused. Now… they will pay.
Patiently, I waited in line. As new customers arrived, I politely allowed them to go in front of me.
Looking at my wrist-watch… three minutes until lunch. I would be the last in line.
No innocents would be harmed. But someone had to pay. That was the plan.
Unobserved, I quietly walked to the entrance door and locked it. I turned the ‘Welcome’ sign to ‘Come Back after Lunch’.
My timing was impeccable. The gentleman, if you could call the covert-baby-disappointing-monster that, was the man who had assured me that this Christmas would be perfect. He was waiting at the counter.
Before I could speak to him, his supervisor tapped him on the shoulder. “Get a jump on lunch, Calvin. I’ll take this one.”
She was glowing. “I see you have already flipped our sign. Thanks so much. Sometimes our lunchtimes are over before the last costumer is served. How can I help you?
Barely comprehending her words. All I could focus on was her huge belly.
Written for Sunday Afternoon Writings: A Zoom Writing Group. Requirements: Use these five words in a flash fiction story. Post Office (I substituted Postal), glass, wound, failure, and wrist-watch.